Decembers in Arizona are strange. Granted, we're only five days in, but--call me crazy--I keep expecting to wake up and see snow on the ground. And people are putting Christmas lights on their cacti.
While I definitely think the decorating is weird, I've acclimated enough to shiver in the mornings along with the rest of the Phoenicians... to be fair, it's dipping below 40 at night. To somebody who's been basking in 90-110 degrees since August and has zero exposure to Minnesota December so far this year, that's cold. I'm regretting the fact that the bulk of my shoe collection here is made of flip-flops, but I'm digging the fact that I can still wear said flip-flops in the afternoons. Suckaz.
It's also the end of the semester, and I'm struggling a bit. I have two major projects left for my eternally dreaded economics class, both due on Wednesday. Two projects are all that stands between me and a month of freedom too exquisite to fathom.
So, naturally, I'm procrastinating. I call it voluntarily seeking distraction.
One of the major reasons for the distraction is also the main reason for this blog post. I'm trying to organize an excursion overseas through a volunteer program, not unlike the Peace Corps but much, much more abbreviated. I'd go for 4-12 weeks, during the summer. Through this organization (which I won't name yet because plans are still strictly preliminary) I could choose to volunteer (the 4-week end of the spectrum) or intern for degree credit (the 12-week end, if ASU gets on board with it). I could also choose where, out of the countries with established programs, I'd want to serve. Tanzania. Morocco. India. Peru. South Africa. All are options, plus about 10 or 12 more.
I was talking with a friend the other night about this, and during our discussion I had sort of a mini-epiphany. When I applied to the Peace Corps a few years ago (and was officially recommended by the recruiter, offered a program spot, and medically cleared for service), I realized during the process that maybe I wasn't quite ready. When it happened, it happened relatively fast, and suddenly the girl, right out of college, had to make a pretty important choice. And I chose to stay.
I haven't regretted that choice as much as I regret not going. That is a confusing sentence, I realize, but let me try to explain.
Not once have I regretted staying, because staying allowed me to grow exponentially as a compassionate person, as a humanitarian, and as an activist for causes in which I strongly believe. My horizons were profoundly expanded by my experiences in AmeriCorps. The relationships forged from those experiences will be with me for the rest of my life. I am a richer human being for all of that. No doubt, no question.
My first semester of grad school has taught me some things, too (as well it should, for 20 grand). One, I have a fairly decent chance at surviving it. Two, I don't just want to survive it. Three, I don't want to merely survive it, but I don't want to do the "cookie-cutter" public policy degree that the program vibes are projecting at me. The policy degree at ASU is relatively new, and while I understand the point of all the analysis and statistics and research methodology, I am missing visceral experiences. I don't want the next two years to fly by, resulting in a fancy new degree and feelings of self-doubt and unfulfilled purpose.
In some ways, I regret turning Peace Corps down. At the time, it was the right decision. But where would I be now, with that experience under my belt? Who would I be? What could I have accomplished?
Part of that line of questioning stems from selfishness. But at the same time, who would I have been able to help? That call to service, to get out and actually do something to improve the lives of others, was partially and temporarily satiated by AmeriCorps, but it's not going away. It's exacerbated by my profound desire to get out of the familiar for once in my life and travel to far reaches of the world, where the need is so great. I feel like if I don't go soon, I never will. That thought has kept me awake at night, more than once.
Service comes naturally to me. It doesn't to everyone. Service is also defined differently by almost everybody. It is impossible to quantify the experience of service, to rank it. People have commended me for my AmeriCorps service, but those same people have questioned my desire to serve overseas. Why? What makes one more justifiable than the other, in their eyes? Are there justifiable differences between them in my own?
It sounds cliche, I know, but I wholeheartedly believe what it comes down to is that we are ultimately defined by the choices we make, or don't make; by what we want or don't want to accomplish. I want to be able to shape my degree into something that represents who I want to be, and what I want to actually do with it. More and more, I feel like that involves immigration policy and humanitarian rights issues. I want to continue the work that AmeriCorps turned me onto. I want to do what I can to help, for as long as I'm here.
So here are the choices I'm making. Next week, I'm sending in the paperwork to renew my passport. I'm talking to the internship director for ASU's School of Public Affairs, about credit. I'm talking to an enrollment manager with the volunteer organization, about enrollment options. I'm researching fundraising tools to see if this thing is financially possible.
This time, I'm ready.
